::0br.26/41/T - Blister

It was not a thing commonly believed by the rest, not even among the chroniclers. But Blister held on to the notion; he was sure he held it in passing from the Elder who must have let it slip during one of their reminiscent moments, when they stared far away towards the symbol of the Fallen Lady across the harbour. That new children could exist, remembering his own time as a child in the Ark, with the others. They had all grown up now, but sterile. Blister was sure it would take a couple more mutations to reach fecundity; he couldn’t wait to advance himself. But with the Elder absent he had no way of furthering his understanding.

Last night was still on Blister's mind. She had joined Johammed's meeting on how to fix the food rations.

She believed the Ark could be a wonderful place again, one day. But immediate problems should be fixed first. Food primarily. And of course preventing the Ark from sinking even further. She'd hope she'd see the day that there would be children again. Maybe have one of her own. But right now, food was the main concern.

Blister had taken a room of her own in the Ark. It was behind a big room called Theatre and Blister's room had a half illegible sign on the door

_res_in_ Room

rest in Room, she assumed.

It worked fine for her. For this was her room to rest in now. All the fancy dresses and clothes she had found from the Old World, she had piled up into a comfortable sort of bed. She liked the idea of Theatre. She could just imagine how it would have been in the Old World. Many people on the Ark, all sitting in the chairs of a Threatre, and on stage, an Old World Chronicler, entaining their audience with stories about fascinating subjects of the Old World... Taxation. The way technology worked. How to grow your own vegetables. It must have been marvelous times.

But for now, food was priority. And Blister didn't like how people go upset with Boss Johammed the other night. She'd best visit him and see how he was doing and what she could do to help.